


Our Little Corner of the World

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [19]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Gilmore Girls AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin owns the local diner in the small New England town that the Blake siblings have made their own little corner of the world. </p><p>Or, a series of loosely connected one-shots in which Clarke and Bellamy are Luke and Lorelai from Gilmore Girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially just a single one-shot as a response to a prompt I filled on tumblr, but I loved this little fic so much that I decided I wanted to do some follow-ups - new parts will be added as I feel inspired :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only Octavia’s birthday can convince Clarke to allow Bellamy to get away with using his own (super nerdy) mug at her diner.

Clarke stared down at the chipped, off-white coffee cup sitting in front of her, with its thick black block lettering that read  _Quid Faceret Cicero?_

“What did I tell you about bringing your own mugs into my diner?” She asked dryly, looking up at the smiling man across from her.

Bellamy just laughed, bracing his arms on the counter as he leaned forward. The early morning light glowed golden on his face, highlighting his freckles even more than usual. In a bright tone, he replied, “Well, good morning to you too, princess. Coffee please?”

Rolling her eyes, Clarke reached back for one of the diner’s mugs and a pot of coffee. As she poured it pointedly into the mug that read  _Jake’s_ , Bellamy laughed and continued, “You do know I’m just going to transfer it right into my mug as soon as I get it, right?”

Before Clarke could reply, the phone rang. With a warning glance, she turned and grabbed the phone. She confirmed her bread order for tomorrow morning, hung up, and then spun around, ready to wipe down the counter, but Bellamy was still there, grinning at her over his now coffee-filled nerdy Roman history mug. Octavia had arrived in the meantime and perched herself on one of the stools.

“Morning, Clarke!” She chirped, just as much of an early bird as her brother.

“You can’t sit there,” Clarke said evenly, trying to suppress a smile.

Bellamy shot her a confused glance as Octavia slid off uneasily.

“Oops, sorry I didn’t think the seat was taken,” she said, sliding one stool over.

“Not there either,” Clarke continued.

Bellamy straightened, narrowing his stare. “Well, then, where are we supposed to sit?”

“Maybe at the table with the balloons and the coffee cake I made that has ‘Happy Birthday Octavia’ written on it in icing?” Clarke asked, finally breaking into a smile as she gestured with her pen to the decorated table in the front by the window.

With a pleased laugh, Octavia spun around from her stool and darted over to the table. Bellamy lingered, but Clarke tried to ignore him, instead absently scribbling out a to-do list. His large, warm hand closed over her busy one, stilling it and forcing her to meet his stare.

“Thank you,” he said in a low, sincere voice, dark brown eyes warm with gratitude.

“I’m doing it for Octavia,” Clarke replied archly. “And because it’s her birthday, I’ll let your personal mug use slide, just this once.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” Bellamy said with a chuckle as he walked off to join his sister.

Just for a second, Clarke watched him go, with that confident stride of his. _Those jeans are really working for him_ , she thought with a sigh, before shaking off the ridiculous trance and yelling back to Jasper to hurry up with cooking the waiting meal orders. She slid some ready plates across the counter to Monty, who delivered them to their correct tables with his usual goofy grin.  

A little while later, when she returned from circling the room to check on her customers, she saw Bellamy had slipped behind the counter to refill his mug.

“Hey!” She called out, slapping her rag down. “What did I say about you going behind the counter?”

“You looked a little busy,” Bellamy said, nonchalantly still pouring his coffee. “Just trying to make your morning go a little easier.”  

With a scoff, Clarke rounded the counter and placed her hands on his abdomen, pushing him backwards towards the seating area. Ignoring the way he twitched at her touch, she propelled him back to his table.

“Sit, and stay,” she said with a glare.

Octavia laughed through a mouthful of coffee cake, and Clarke turned on her heel back to the counter. Grabbing the now-empty pot of coffee from the holder, she spun to make another batch, jumping in surprise at Bellamy back sitting at the counter.

“I need to place our order,” he said, heading off her imminent protest.

“The coffee cake wasn’t enough?” She asked, free hand going onto her cocked hip. A slow blush rose on her cheeks as she realized his eyes were lingering there. When he flicked his gaze up to meet hers again, she scowled, determined to mask the effect he had on her.

“You know O. She eats like a trucker,” he commented, giving her a lazy, charming grin that had Clarke’s ears burning.

“Wonder where she learned that from,” Clarke shot back, hiding a smile of her own as she wrote down their usual order and slid it back to Jasper.

When she turned back to Bellamy, his expression had dropped into something sad and a little bit angry. Guessing she had hit a nerve, Clarke topped off his coffee cup, staying silent. She just had to wait a bit and he would talk; she knew that well enough after so many years.

“I’m just glad she has the opportunity to eat like that now,” he said softly, staring down into his drink. “It didn’t used to be this way, when I was younger.”

Heart aching, Clarke put the coffee pot back and leaned down on the counter, dipping her head to catch his attention again.

“And she has you to thank for that. You do right by her, Bell, in all the best ways. She couldn’t ask for a better brother.”

She watched Bellamy swallow thickly as he nodded once. “I just wish I could give her even more. She deserves it.”

“No doubt she does, but she has you, someone who loves her unconditionally. I don’t think she would ask for more, even if you could offer her the world.”

Bellamy threw her a soft smile, glancing back to his sister. Clarke followed suit, noticing someone else at the siblings’ table now. With a disbelieving huff, Bellamy started to stand, no doubt intending to scare off the guy who was making Octavia giggle loudly.

“Hold up,” Clarke said, catching Bellamy’s arm before he could leave. “It’s just Lincoln.”

“Who the hell is Lincoln?” He asked roughly, glaring at her in frustration. He tugged his arm, but she had a solid grip on it and wouldn’t let go.

“He rents part of the studio space upstairs. Really talented painter, taking a gap year to work on some projects before going to college. Got into Yale, actually,” she added, hoping her approval would lessen Bellamy’s worry.

“How does he know my sister?” He asked, turning his focus slowly back to Clarke.

Biting her lip, because she knew he wasn’t going to like her answer, she slowly replied, “They’ve run into each other a couple of times.”

“How many times?”

“More than a few.”

“Are they dating?”

“Not yet.” Bellamy tensed at her words, so she added, “He’s a good guy, Bell. I’ve known his family for a few years. I can vouch for him.”

He stared carefully at her for a few minutes, and she held his judging gaze resolutely, folding her arms across her chest. Then, he suddenly deflated, plopping down into a stool dejectedly.

“Damn. I almost got her all the way through high school without dealing with the boy thing.”

Clarke coughed to cover a laugh, because she knew for a fact Octavia had dated more than a few guys in the last couple of years. Bellamy would be furious at both of them for not telling him, but Clarke understood the necessity of Octavia having something private. The boys here weren’t enough for her anyways, so the relationships had never lasted long. Octavia was destined for much more than this small town; everyone knew that. They also knew it was because of Bellamy that she was poised for great things, even if he stubbornly refused to take any credit.

“He’s really okay?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke felt her throat dry up at the trust in his eyes.

“One of the most caring, genuine people I know,” Clarke answered with quiet satisfaction.

Groaning, Bellamy sighed. “I really wish you had said he was an asshole so I could scare him away without feeling guilty.”

With a laugh, Clarke shook her head. “Trust me, he wouldn’t have gotten within a foot of Octavia if I didn’t approve. I would’ve had him out the door before a single word was even exchanged.”

“Planned on taking him down, with all of your muscle? Oh, I would like to see that,” Bellamy teased, eyeing her small frame with a doubtful expression.

“Shut up or I confiscate that mug,” Clarke retorted, grabbing at the cup. Her hand wrapped over his, and she expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he just stared at her, watching her with careful, warm, intrigued eyes. Her breath caught, and his expression shifting into something intimate. As his lips parted in preparation to say something, they were jolted out of their bubble by Octavia’s arrival.

“Bell, I’m going to be late to school,” she complained, punching his shoulder lightly.

Clarke jerked her hands away, wiping them on her apron to stop the burning sensation that contact with his skin had sparked. It didn’t help much, and neither did the unsteady sound Bellamy made as he cleared his throat. Quickly, she turned around and boxed up their ready breakfast orders so they could eat them on the road.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go,” Bellamy said after taking the boxes, standing up to herd his sister out the door. He glanced back at Clarke once as he left, sending her a hesitant smile, which she returned shyly.

For a while after he left, she just stood at the counter, staring at the door. Eventually, Jasper’s annoyed shouts startled her out of the daze. As she jumped back to reality, Clarke noticed Bellamy’s mug sitting forgotten on the counter. Shaking her head, she dumped out the stale contents and refilled it with her personal brew, smiling as she took a sip and decided she might keep this mug for herself.

 _Serves him right_ , she thought giddily, imaging the many ways she could make him earn it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For inquiring minds, the mug is from CafePress and roughly translates to What Would Cicero Do?…because for me, Bellamy is a history nerd in every universe LOL.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bellamy tries to figure out if he and Clarke are dating.

Squinting up at the clear, bright sky, Bellamy rocked back on his heels as he waited for Octavia outside Jake’s. The town square was busy for a weekday, even at lunchtime, but he supposed it was the warm weather that had everyone out and about. He looked at his watch, debating about calling his sister. He knew her schedule was all wonky after surviving her spring finals, but she was usually up at least by noon in the week that she had been home from Yale. It was odd that she was running this late. Bellamy figured he should at least go in and get a table at the diner, but every time he peered in the window, he saw Clarke and his resolve faltered.

It was weird to be around her now, after they had gone to her best friend Wells’ wedding together. That night something had shifted, in a big way, more so than any time before. Maybe it was seeing her dressed in something other than paint-streaked jeans, or maybe it was the way her eyes lit up when she realized he knew how to waltz. Whatever it was, he felt jittery whenever he was near her, and it was only getting worse.

Bellamy looked into the diner again, his gaze immediately locking on Clarke. Uncharacteristically, her hair was down, the usual messy bun absent, her blond curls spilling over her shoulders and glowing in the afternoon sunlight. The rest of her was the same, though: worn T-shirt, dry smile, busy hands. He watched as she bustled about the room, refilling coffee as she smoothly chatted with each customer, offering just the right amount of hospitality without overwhelming them with cheer. Some people in the town considered her standoffish, but Bellamy appreciated her talent for giving people space and privacy. It wasn’t something you got in their town very often; as loving as the inhabitants were, they were also incredibly nosy.

Her customers taken care of, Clarke slipped behind the counter, turning to organize the condiment containers, refilling them where needed. After finishing, she wiped down the bar surface. Then she laughed, probably at something Jasper was saying, her blue eyes dancing in amusement. Though he couldn’t hear her, Bellamy smiled, thinking wistfully of the way he had made her laugh the night of the wedding.

“What’cha doing?”

Bellamy jumped, spinning to glare at his sister, who was watching him knowingly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Waiting for you,” he replied after a second to gather himself. “You took long enough. Sleeping til noon going to be a habit, now, hm?”

“Shut up,” Octavia said. “And don’t change the subject. Why were you staring at Clarke?”

“I wasn’t staring at Clarke.”

“Well, you sure as hell weren’t staring at Monty or Jasper or Mayor Kane.”

Bellamy looked at Octavia, debating whether or not to talk to her about whatever thing was going on between him and Clarke. His sister was close with her, and he didn’t want to put her in the middle. Plus, it was his  _sister_ , and talking with her about his dating life was always a little weird, even as close as they were—and wait, what, he and Clarke weren’t dating _._ They weren’t.

Sighing, because obviously he had no other options, Bellamy pulled Octavia closer, leaning his head down to whisper in her ear.

“I think I’m dating Clarke.”

“What!” Octavia shrieked, jumping back with an ecstatic grin. Bellamy scowled, but his sister ignored it, instead slapping his upper arm in excitement. “What, when, how, where, ohmygosh this is huge!”

“I said I  _think_  I’m dating her, O, calm down,”

With a laugh, Octavia shook her head at him. “What do you mean you think?”

“I mean, I just, I don’t, ugh,” Bellamy mumbled, running a hand roughly through his hair. As Octavia hit him again, jumping up and down, he grasped her shoulders, forcing her to stop. “It was unclear, after the wedding.”

“Well, did you kiss?”

“No,” Bellamy replied, ignoring the way his chest ached at remembering the moment on his porch. That could have been the time, maybe should have been, but after an awkward pause, she had simply wished him a quiet goodnight, walking slowly back to her car. “But we did talk about going to see a movie? And we danced, at the wedding.”

Octavia let out a squeal. “You’re dating Clarke! Well, almost.”

“Shh,” he cautioned her, noticing a few curious townspeople finally looking their way. “Will you keep it down?”

“ _You’re dating Clarke!”_  She repeated in a whisper and giggled under her breath.

Bellamy didn’t respond, but he couldn’t suppress the smile that was slowly forming on his face. Octavia hugged him then, squeezing him tightly before she let go.

“Now that we have that settled, let’s go get some food,” she said, towing him forcefully towards Jake’s.

The diner had been his suggestion for their lunch, because he had planned on using Octavia as a buffer between him and Clarke. Now that his sister knew, however, his stomach felt like lead as he got closer to the diner, doubtful of Octavia’s ability to be subtle.

“Not a word, O,” he muttered under this breath as they walked in the door. “Just be cool about it, okay? I don’t want to make it any more weird.”

Octavia huffed, shooting him a look that said  _obviously._  As his sister plopped down at a nearby empty table, Bellamy nonchalantly scanned the room for Clarke, who was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“Hey.”

Startled by the sound of her voice from behind him, Bellamy stumbled, knocking into the corner of their table. The condiment bottles, napkin holder and vase on it all fell over, clattering loudly. Scrambling to catch them, Bellamy half-fell onto the table, embarrassed at the commotion. He heard Octavia choke down a laugh, and he glared at her as he straightened the mess. Finally, he turned to Clarke, who was simply looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“You alright?” She asked, her tone mostly even, but undertones of amusement were there as well.

“Yeah, fine. Long day,” he replied hurriedly, taking a seat.

Octavia reached out to pat his arm in mocking assurance, grinning at Clarke. “He’s a little on edge, with the inn opening coming up.”

Smiling, Clarke said, “I just got the invitation in the mail. I feel honored that I’m part of the test run.”

“So you’re coming?” Bellamy asked, finally finding his voice again.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Clarke replied, and his stomach flipped at the warmth in her eyes.

After a heavy pause where neither of them looked away, Bellamy cleared his throat and managed to get out his and O’s orders in some intelligible fashion. He watched Clarke walk back to the kitchen, realizing just how glad he was that she’d be there at the inn with the rest of his friends.

“And you were worried about  _me_  not being subtle,” Octavia said under her breath.

“Just for that comment, you’re paying for lunch today,” Bellamy muttered back at her.

With a smirk, Octavia shrugged. “After witnessing that little display, I’d pay for everyone’s meals here. Totally worth it, to see my big brother falling for someone, literally.”

Bellamy reached over to ruffle his sister’s hair, grinning when she shrieked in protest. By the time she fought him off, Clarke had dropped off their orders. As they dug in, both starving, Bellamy felt a calm settle over him, realizing that while his sister had just been teasing him about starting to fall for Clarke, she also may not have been entirely wrong.    


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy opens his inn, and Clarke is making all the right moves, and somehow it all results in some yelling, some kissing, and a little bit of nakedness.

_Home_  was the first thing that Clarke thought of when the golf cart pulled up to the inn. The large, two-story building was old but welcoming, the open windows and porch overflowing with plants of all kinds cheerfully greeting its guests right from the minute you walked up. It looked lived-in, worn but cherished, a perfect destination for a quiet getaway.

Right now, though, the inn was anything but quiet—arriving friends-turned-guests were exclaiming loudly at the loveliness of the place, Kane was squawking at the contractor about several safety violations he had already noticed, and the muffled sounds of hammers and drills echoed from the barn. Given the stream of workers carrying doors from the barn to the inn, Clarke guessed everything wasn’t quite as finished for the test run as Bellamy had hoped.

Her pulse fluttered as her thoughts turned to the man of the hour, and she clutched the books she had brought for him as a gift just a little bit tighter. Reaching up, she tucked her hair behind her ear and then tugged on her dress to adjust it. She felt ridiculous at being so dressed up, because today of all days Bellamy wasn’t going to be paying attention to her, or what she was wearing. Still, she had hemmed and hawed over her outfit, trying to convince herself it was because she wanted to look nice for the opening of the inn, and not for the owner of said inn.

“Clarke, you made it!”

She looked up and smiled when she saw Miller waving at her from the front door. Finally pulled out of her nervous indecision, she hauled her overnight bag onto her shoulder and raced up to give him a large hug.

“It looks amazing. And smells it too. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got on the menu tonight.”

Miller gave her a sheepish shrug, but Clarke knew how hard he had worked to put together a spectacular sampling of food for them this weekend. It was all Monty had talked of for weeks, because apparently Miller was stressed out of his mind about what to serve, and Monty was stressed out about Miller being stressed out. They were the most neurotic couple Clarke knew, but also the sweetest.

“Bellamy’s inside, at the front desk,” Miller offered, stepping aside to let her in.

Her stomach flipped anxiously, but she managed to give him another smile in farewell before she walked through the door.

The inn was just as stunning inside as it was out, and Clarke marveled at how well everything had come together. Not really a surprise, knowing how Bellamy had put his heart and soul into this place, but it really was spectacular. She spun on her heel, taking everything in, until her eyes landed on Bellamy. Their gazes locked, and for a split second, she saw him freeze, but then door-bearing workman cut in front of them, and suddenly he was right there next to her.

“You came,” he said warmly, then frowned when he looked down at her bag. “Atom was supposed to be taking everybody’s bags.”

“I doubt he could carry everybody’s at once, and I came up with a big group. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

Bellamy snorted, opening his mouth to no doubt bring up that time she had tried to hang some shelves in her storeroom by herself and had ended up in the hospital with two broken fingers, or the time she had tried to install a new shower head and had given herself a black eye.

“Here,” she interrupted, heading off his teasing protests. “I brought these for you.”

She shoved the books of art she had brought for the inn’s library into his hands, watching with nervousness as he carefully leafed through them.

“They’re wonderful,” he murmured, flicking a grateful look up at her.

“Well, I figured your guests might want to read something other than all those horrendously dry history textbooks you’ve bound to have stocked up on.”

Bellamy chuckled at her jibe, and oh dear, did that do things to her insides. He didn’t say anything else, just stared at her, holding the books, drumming his fingers lightly along the spine. She knew she should compliment him, comment on the inn, but her words stuck in her throat as she locked gazes with him again, caught up in the warmth and intrigue in his eyes.

“Um, well, should we get you too your room?” He finally rambled out, shifting suddenly on his feet.

Before Clarke could even nod, he whipped around and smacked right into a door that was being carried directly behind him.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Clarke exclaimed, rushing forward, placing a hand on his arm to steady him as he winced and probed his forehead.

“He’s fine,” Octavia called out amusedly from behind the front desk. “Got the hardest head I know—a little whack like that isn’t going to hurt him.”

“Love you too, O,” Bellamy mumbled, his cheeks blooming red with what appeared to be embarrassment.

Clarke tried to suppress her laughter, but it bubbled out, because yes, he was a pretty funny picture right now, but also because she had never seen him so flustered. And it could be because of the inn, but the way he had looked at her a minute ago—told her that maybe it was because she made him as nervous as he made her. She had been the one making all the moves so far, and she didn’t think she was reading him wrong, but as many false starts as they had had in the past, Clarke didn’t want to screw it up again this time, not when they had come farther than they ever had before.

“Go put some ice on that,” she advised, scooting around him to get to Octavia. “Your sister can show me around.”

Bellamy frowned at the suggestions, but Clarke shook her head. “You’ve got plenty of other things to worry about today. Go.”

Still he didn’t move, and his unwillingness to leave her made her heart swell with hope.

“I’ll see you later, I’m sure,” she reassured him, trying to sound casual, but the way his expression lifted and Octavia smiled at her words told her she hadn’t succeeded. “ _Go_ ,” she continued, laughing a bit to shake off her own anxiety at what later might exactly hold. 

With a conceding drop of his head, Bellamy gave her a short wave farewell, before turning around—and almost walking into another door, for christ sake—to go greet the remainder of their friends and neighbors, leaving Clarke behind with a nervous but also encouraged heart.

* * *

_I’ll see you later, I’m sure._

Bellamy nearly groaned as he looked at the time—it was past ten-thirty—while shoveling down his now-cold dinner. He had barely seen Clarke at all today, what with the missing doors debacle, and Kane complaining about this and about that, and Echo showing up out of the blue, and then Jasper constantly bothering him about making changes to his room that he was sharing with Maya. Why the guy was so worried about the pictures being able to come off the walls was beyond him.

Even if he hadn’t been able to spend time with her, Clarke had been on his mind all day, and as he threw his cleared plate into the sink, he resolved to go find her, hoping she hadn’t turned in for the night.

“All my hard work, and you inhale it in less than three minutes,” Miller grumbled from the end of the kitchen island where he was beginning the prep for tomorrow’s breakfast.

“So needy,” Bellamy teased, flashing his partner a wide grin. Miller flipped him off, sending flour puffing into the air with the motion, even getting some in his own face for his trouble. Chuckling and calling a quiet  _goodnight_  over his shoulder, Bellamy pushed out of the kitchen and padded through the now silent inn.

_His_ inn, he thought, not able to stop the wide smile forming on his face. And for once, he let it stay there without feeling self-conscience, because he had fucking  _done_ it, opened his own inn, and Octavia was happy at Yale, and then there was  whatever was going on with Clarke—

Just then he spotted her standing in the foyer, arms crossed over her chest, lingering and staring at nothing in particular.

“Hey,” he said, walking up behind her, laughing a little when she jumped at the greeting.

“Hey,” she repeated, her voice subdued. She didn’t look at him, and suddenly Bellamy wasn’t feeling as content as before.

“You finding everything okay?” He probed, but still she just looked at the ground.

“The inn is perfect.”

Her voice was sincere but tired, and it makes him anxious, so he tried again. “You feeling alright?”

She let out a sharp laugh, almost sad. “I’m feeling pretty stupid right about now.”

Taken aback, Bellamy swung around in front to catch her attention, but still she avoided direct eye contact. He could see an angry blush rising in her cheeks, however, and his own hackles raised, because if she was mad he hadn’t spent time with her today, what with his inn goddamn  _opening_ today—

“I did all the right things,” she said sharply, jerking her head up to catch his gaze, a storm of confusion and hurt in her eyes. “I asked you out, I brought you the books, I gave a million hints—you knew what I was doing, right?”

“What you were—”

“And there was a moment!” She burst out wildly, staring to pace back and forth, waving her hands around in a ridiculous fashion that would’ve had him laughing if he also wasn’t feeling so lost.

“At the wedding there was a moment, by my car, where you, where we—but then Echo shows up here, talking about how you’re going away together, that you two are  _together_ , that it’s right, you’re right—and I’m just sitting here in this stupid dress—and I never wear dresses, thank you very much—thinking, _what the hell have I been doing all this for, he’s taken!_ ”

She finished with a heaving breath, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her lips parted as she recovered from her tirade that had stunned Bellamy into near speechlessness.

“I’m not taken,” he stammered out, lurching after her as she stormed outside, clearly needing some fresh air.

“Does she know that?” She bit back, whipping around just outside the doorway to face him head-on, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Just calm down!” He snapped, reaching out to steady her flailing arms, but she waved him off.

“I don’t want to calm down! I did everything right, and now you’re standing here looking at me like you think I’m crazy—”

“I don’t think you’re crazy!”

“—blathering on about weddings and moments—”

“There  _was_  a moment!” Bellamy thundered out, a bit more forcefully than he intended, but it did the trick.

Clarke froze, breathless, watching him, just watching him with her blue eyes that caught him up helplessly every damn time. Time suspended itself, and he stood there watching her watch him, agitated and waiting–waiting, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Suddenly she jerked forward, her movement so surprising that he flinched away unconsciously.

“What are you doing?” He demanded.

“Would you just stand still?” She shot back in a wavering voice.

And then she reached out and yanked him by the sides of his shirt towards her, perching on her toes as she kissed him, her lips warm and soft and everything he had ever imagined they would be. Surprise kept him from engaging, and before he knew it, she and her soothing warmth were pulling away, leaving him yet again frozen and breathless.

Relief and joy and a sense of finality washed over him, so overwhelming he could barely make out her apprehensive expression as she waited for his reaction. All he knew, however, was that he needed more. More of her and her kisses, of her warmth and mocking laughter, her jokes and her strength, and he felt drawn to her, like he always had been, but this time he had the confidence to follow that pull, and so he moved forward, reaching out for all of that more.

She stepped back though, clearly startled, her voice stunned when she asked, “What are  _you_ doing?”

With a soft laugh under his breath, Bellamy slowly tugged her in close, relishing the feel of her pressed up against him. Then he bent his head, setting his lips just against hers and whispered, “Would you just stand still?”

And then he was the one kissing her, a hand coming up to cup her round face as he deepened it, searching for more, always more. She gave it willingly, every muscle in her immediately relaxing as she threw herself into the embrace, and Bellamy’s heart swelled because  _fucking finally._

Too soon they had to break away for air, both sucking in loud breaths, the sound of her soft gasping making him oddly satisfied, even if he too was making similar noises. Then he was thinking about what other types of sounds she would make, and he reached out for her again, wanting to find out—

But the sound he got instead was a terrifying, high-pitched, off-key screeching that came from inside the inn.

When Bellamy looked, he gaped at a naked Jasper galloping down the stairs, eyes squeezed shut tightly, face tomato red and scrunched into a horrified expression, and he was hollering for all he was worth. He zoomed past the two of them in the doorway, speeding down the inn’s dirt driveway as he continued to scream into the otherwise quiet summer night.

“Oh, shit,” Clarke breathed, giving Bellamy’s arm a quick squeeze. “I’ve got to go.”

He didn’t even have time to ask for an explanation before she took off after Jasper, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back! I’ll explain later!”

_Later_ ,  _it’s always later,_ he thought absently as he watched her blonde head disappear into the dark.

Then he smiled, pressing a fist to his lips that still had her taste on them, because at least time, later had worked out quite well for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, this is where the linear storytelling stops. After this, any scenes will be out of order - it's going to be more like a collection of fics than an actual multichapter story from here on out. I have two more ideas for this universe that I'm going to spit out soon, and after that I'll add on only as I'm inspired!
> 
> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small revisit to a moment before the first part of this Gilmore GIrls AU series, because the Blake sibling dynamic is everything to me.

“Wake up, little sister.”

Octavia groaned, pulling her comforter up over her head.  _Sleep_ , she thought drowsily.  _I want to sleep._

“Wake up,” Bellamy drawled in a soft, singsong voice. “Guess what day it is.”

She knew what day it was, but at this hour, she didn’t care. They could celebrate her birthday when the sun was out, and she preferably had ingested at least two cups of coffee.

“Lemme sleep,” she mumbled out, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as if that would keep him away.

“Nope,” he replied happily.

Then a heavy weight landed on Octavia, causing her to let out a surprised _oof_.

“Bell, get off me,” she whined, though she couldn’t help smiling as he tickled her sides through the comforter. “Stop!”

“Come out and I will.”

Popping her head out into the cool morning air, Octavia scowled at her brother, his features barely visible in the dark room.

“There she is, the birthday girl.”

She rolled her eyes as Bellamy flopped off of her finally, settling in beside her on the twin bed. It used to be much easier for him to do this in years past when they were smaller, even though her mom had also been squeezed between them back then. Now she had to turn on her side so they could both fit. Craning her neck to look at him, because he was a bit farther up on the mattress, hands folded behind his head to prop it up, she waited for him to start the traditional speech.

“So, things you want for this illustrious day of your birth: give ‘em to me.”

“My brother not waking me up at goddamn four in the morning.”

“Language.”

Octavia hummed in disapproval at his rebuke, then began chewing her lip in mock contemplation. “It’d be nice if we could get rid of nuclear weapons—you know, world peace and harmony and all that. Plus we’d avoid an apocalypse. So, yeah, I want nuclear disarmament for my birthday.”

“I’ll call up the UN—maybe Kane has some pull.”

The idea of asking the town mayor for help set her giggling, as did the overly serious look on Bell’s face, and she snuggled into his side, no longer trying to hide how much she enjoyed this ritual with her sibling. Even if it was four o’clock in the morning.

“So, how do I look?” She pulled a face, and Bellamy chuckled. “Older?”

“Ancient. Look at all those wrinkles. Better put some cream on them.”

Pursing her lips, she pounded her fist against his chest in protest. “Rude.”

“You love me.”

Octavia stilled, then smiled softly at her brother. “I do love you, big brother.”

“You better, because around this very time sixteen years ago, I was the one being woken up at a absurd hour of the night by Mom—”

“Oh, here we go,” she muttered under her breath, squeaking a little when Bellamy poked her side in retribution.

“Shh,” he hushed her before continuing, “and before we even got to the hospital, every other word out of her mouth was a swear, followed by an apology, because apparently five-year-olds aren’t supposed to hear stuff like that. Anyways—”

As Bellamy continued to narrate the story of her birth, Octavia settled further into his side, arms curled into her chest, breathing in and out slowly as his words washed over her. Knots formed in her stomach at the mentions of their mother, because she  _missed_  her, so much, especially on this night. Two years ago it had been her mom doing this, just like she had every birthday before. Last year—the first year without Aurora—she had almost asked Bell to not do it, but in the end, she had let him, and surprisingly it had helped more than it had hurt.

With every aching mention of their mother, however, also came mentions of her brother, and those helped loosen the knots. Bellamy teasingly made himself the center of the story, saying babies weren’t that interesting, but five-year-olds were. Octavia always smacked him at that part, but honestly she liked hearing about him when he was younger. They didn’t have much family to remember him like that, and she certainly didn’t recall much at all, so she took whatever she could get.

“—and then because of course I couldn’t leave Mom on her own, I snuck my way into the birthing room behind one of the nurses, which was no small feat because the head nurse was like Cerberus, determined to keep me out of the room.  _Little boys don’t need to see those kinds of things_. And I told her about all the stories I had read, and how I was brave enough to handle it, but of course she didn’t listen. So I snuck in, and Mom was screaming—you had a big head, you know, still do—and I pushed my way to the front—”

Octavia could feel herself drifting off, soothed back to sleep by the even tenor of Bell’s words and the soft rumbling of his chest under her hand. When she finally began to lose track of the story however, she tried to shake herself awake, determined to catch the ending.

“—don’t know what type of drugs they had Mom on to let me name you, but hand you over to me she did and told me:  _my sister, my responsibility._  And since my sister needed to live up to my own awesomeness, I decided to name you after the sister of Augustus, which is how you ended up with a name that makes every teacher question the sanity of the Blake family line—”

“I love my name,” Octavia mumbled sleepily, not able to help herself from succumbing to the late hour and warm pull of her sheets. “And I love you, you mythology nerd.”  

Just as another wave of drowsiness rippled through her, she felt Bell press a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips moving against her hair as he replied:

_And I love you, little sister._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because this scene is one of my all-time favorites in the Gilmore Girls series, I absolutely had to write a fic of the disastrous double date from Season 1.
> 
> Basically, Rune is my favorite.

The diner bell clanged, and Clarke looked up from the sugar containers she had been refilling. Usually nobody came in around this time on a Saturday night, since it was well past the dinner rush but not quite late enough for the few drunken, hungry idiots the town pub inevitably produced to stumble in.

She was even more surprised when Bellamy was the one leading the group, and her eyes widened as she took in his stormy expression. Monty and Miller, who shuffled in behind him, didn’t look much better—Monty seemed like he was about to throw up, and Miller looked horrendously depressed. The last member of the group was unfamiliar, a shorter guy with shifty eyes and floppy, greasy brown hair sticking out from underneath an extremely large, bright blue beanie. As he looked around her diner, his nose scrunched in disdain, and she distinctly heard him mutter something about  _why in the world are we in this shit-hole of an establishment_.

_Well, fuck you too_ , Clarke thought, slapping a rag down as she scrubbed the counter furiously. She had to count to ten so she didn’t order him straight back out of the diner and thereby insult whomever of her friends had brought him.

The fact that in response, Bellamy launched out of his chair, its feet screeching along the linoleum floor, and prowled over to the counter made her feel a lot better.

“So I guess he’s not with you?” She asked under her breath, automatically filling up a cup of coffee for him, which he took gratefully.

“Depends on what you mean by with,” Bellamy grumbled as he posted up on one of the stools.

Clarke just raised her eyebrows, even more intrigued.

Before she could even ask him to elaborate, he cracked with a doleful sigh. “Monty finally asked Miller out.”

“About damn time.” Clarke slid an excited glance over at the couple. Both of them still looked miserable, however, while their guest slumped in his chair scowling, which was not a promising sign for a first date. “So what’s the matter?”

“Miller’s cousin, Murphy, was in town for the weekend, and being the idiot that my best friend is, he decided instead of asking Monty to reschedule, he, you know, told him they could make it a double date—they just had to find someone for his cousin.”

“No!” Clarke spluttered, finally catching his drift, and then began cackling. “Oh shit, no way.”

Bellamy just glowered over the rim of his cup in response, his glum expression causing her to laugh even harder.

“You’re a good friend,” she offered gleefully when she finally caught her breath again.

“I mean, I used to double date with him in college, no big deal. I even got some good hookups out of it, but this—he owes me big for this one.”

“Murphy not your type?” She teased.

“Asshole isn’t my type.”

“Aw, what did he do?”

“My hair is too messy _._  Oh, and apparently my voice is weirdly low. _”_

Clarke snorted, then without thinking reached over and ruffled his hair, carding her fingers through the dark locks. It stuck up in even more disarray than before, like he had just gotten out of bed and hadn’t combed it yet. She pointedly ignored the way her pulse leapt at the sight, instead leaning back and looking at him in contemplation.

“Well,  _I_  have no objections,” she finally said, feeling her cheeks heat up when he gave her an odd, curious look in response. Flustered, she changed the subject. “So what else did Murphy do?”

“Well, after that lovely introduction, he spent the entire dinner glaring at me, but it didn’t freak me out until he started decapitating the deer-shaped butter things at the table, staring straight in my direction the whole while. That was also about the time that Miller told the fiftieth story  _to me_  about Octavia, having been ignoring Monty completely the whole time.”

“So it’s a disaster.”

“Disaster is a very, very kind word for what tonight is.”

Sighing, because Monty really needed to get laid, and specifically by Miller, she tied her apron back on and called out for Jasper to fire up the grill. “What do you guys want?”

“Burgers for the three of us. Murphy isn’t hungry, apparently.”

Clarke looked over at the table, considering Bellamy’s “date” carefully. He kept fiddling with the edge of that ridiculous cap, which clashed horribly with the jean jacket, jeans, and blue shirt he was wearing. Suddenly, an idea struck her. 

“Smurphy.”

Bellamy choked on his sip of coffee, coughing out an amused, “ _What?”_

“Look, he’s wearing all blue, and that hat is absurd. So I dub him Smurphy.”

The loud ring of Bellamy’s pleased laughter had their friends and the two other patrons in the diner turning to look at the pair of them. The attention didn’t deter Bellamy though, and he kept laughing, bracing his arms on the counter as he leaned forward, shoulders shaking in amusement. Clarke found herself beaming, less at the joke and more at the relaxation that was reappearing in every line of his body.

The moment was lost, however, when Murphy sprang up and shouted, “Miller, I want to go.”

“Murphy, sit down,” Miller pleaded in a soft grumble.

“This is bullshit. Let’s just go home, c’mon. I want to go. It’s Saturday, and I just want to go play darts. C’mon.”

Miller, clearly torn, sent an apologetic glance at Monty, shifting in his seat as he prepared to stand.

“Stay!” Monty blurted, fisting his hands nervously as they rested on the tabletop before continuing more quietly. “Please, stay. We haven’t even really started our date yet.”

There was a pause, a breathless, nerve-wracking beat, then Miller smiled, relieved and encouraged, and he settled back down into his chair.

“You know the way home, Murphy,” he said firmly, staring up at his cousin impassively. “Feel free to leave. I, however, am on a date.”

Murphy scowled, his face twisting into an even more unpleasant expression, even if Clarke didn’t know how that was possible. With a displeased huff, he stormed for the door, pausing to glare at her and Bellamy, who looked positively joyful at the guy’s departure.

“Bye, Smurphy!” Bellamy rumbled out, and Clarke swore he had dropped his voice an octave lower on purpose. She barely stifled the snorting laughter choking her throat as Murphy slammed the diner door behind him, the bell ringing violently in his wake.

Clarke slid a glance over at Miller and Monty to see how they felt about the exchange, but the boys were just staring at each other, grinning stupidly.

“Finally,” Bellamy muttered under his breath, and Clarke caught his lips curving up into a fond smile as he also looked at the pair.

“Order up!” Jasper called out from the back.

“I’ll just eat here,” Bellamy told her softly. “They deserve to have some time alone.”

Nodding, Clarke grabbed the plates Jasper had slid over the kitchen partition and brought them over to the boys’ table, quickly leaving them in peace. Then she brought Bellamy his plate, slapping down a blank order pad and pen next to it.

When he looked at her questioningly, a few fries sticking out of his stuffed mouth, she grinned. “A lady never abandons a gentleman who was been stood up on a date.”

Snorting, Bellamy gulped down another sip of coffee and then asked, “What did you have in mind?”

Clarke uncapped the pen and began drawing. “Hangman.”

He laughed softly, as Clarke knew he would, because this was his favorite game. So, between bites, he called out letters, and while he normally crushed her at this, tonight he wasn’t doing so hot. Finally, he guessed his last chance, incorrectly, and Clarke was doubly glad. One, because she had finally beaten him, and two, because she  _really_  wanted him to see the surprise she had in store for the final piece of the hanged man. Letting the pen glide over the paper, she drew a circle for the head, then traced back up and added one more feature, something that set Bellamy off laughing again, the deep, happy sound sending warm tingles up Clarke’s spine.

“You hung Smurphy,” she teased, outlining the beanie she had added to her stick figure.

“If only,” he joked back, swallowing the last of his meal. “Rematch?”

Surprised, because Clarke thought he’d be out of there, ready to get away from the scene of the worst date of all time, she flicked a curious glance at him. “Really?”

Bellamy quirked a warm smile at her, affection twinkling in his eyes as he grabbed the pen and paper from her. “Have to defend my title as the Word King.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows in challenge, leaning forward on the counter in anticipation for the next round, and for more time spent with him. “Bring it on, your majesty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
